


Tarantism

by tententen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Homesickness, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:19:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tententen/pseuds/tententen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from my inbox: tarantism - the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarantism

She swayed slowly, her arms hanging limply by her sides as she carefully picked her way around the courtyard. Isala rarely felt as confident as she did after managing to untangle herself from the limbs of her partners. It was difficult enough to get out of bed without disturbing just one of them. If she wasn’t wedged between Delrin and Cullen, one of them had her in their grip, or part of her body pinned to the mattress. Sometimes the heat of them was the only thing that could get her to sleep. Some nights she was lucky enough to find them already asleep, situated in their positions for the night, giving her the choice to squeeze herself onto the bed or find somewhere else to stay to work on her teasing when she saw them in the morning. 

Isala sighed softly when she heard two pairs of scraping footsteps and a stifled yawn. She ignored Cullen and Delrin as she continued to dance, aimlessly weaving in and out of the shadows cast by the plants and structures in the yard. She was too tired to sleep, too anxious to close her eyes, too wound up to keep still. She missed her clan. She missed her keeper. She missed her parents. She missed knowing, without doubt, that she planned to do with her life was something good. For years, learning and studying and vowing herself to the care of her clan mates had been the single most important thing to her. Now she had power and influence and found herself tied up in human politics. If she treaded carefully and acted smartly, she could do something good with it. She could help elves, whether they lived in the cities or traveled in the wilderness. She could help the mages who were taught they were monstrosities waiting to happen, she could help the abused poor. She could do a lot for much more than her clan, if she were willing to put them out of her mind. They would have expected her back by now, now that the great evil had been defeated and the breach in the sky closed. Every day they looked up, they could see it and wonder why she had yet to return. Staying with the Inquisition must have looked like assimilation to a lot of them, like abandonment, but this was her chance to make a home for elves again. Learning about how the humans did things was just a way to survive.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Isala sighed, rocking her hips slowly as she turned  to face the Delrin with arched brows. She glanced from him to Cullen before wrapping her arms around herself and closing her eyes. “Did I wake you?”

“You woke Cullen. He woke me.”

“Sorry.” Her ears twitched as they came closer, hesitating a few feet away as they watched her dance. Cullen insisted he didn’t know how, and Delrin only knew the stiff movements of the choreographed dances of noble get togethers. She extended her arms anyway, curling her fingers impatiently as she beckoned for either of them to join her. She smiled gratefully at the rough fingers that gently grasped her hands. She laced their fingers together and extended her arms, holding their hands over her head as she twisted back and forth, stepping backwards and forwards, humming encouragingly as her knees knocked against Cullen’s.

“Are you going to come back to bed?” Delrin spoke from behind her, his fingertips brushing against her back. 

“I think I’ll stay out here,” Isala sighed, opening her eyes to Cullen’s concerned frown. She released his hands and ducked away from him, sauntering past Delrin to hold herself again. “I’ll sleep in Cullen’s quarters so I don’t disturb you again.”

“Isalamin…” Cullen’s voice trailed, heavy with exhaustion. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, pausing to watch the both of them before sighing heavily. “I just needed…” She gestured aimlessly. “Space.”

“We could find a larger bed,” Delrin frowned, his nose scrunched at Isala’s laughter. Cullen brushed his arm against Delrin’s shoulder before clasping a hand against the back of his neck, brushing his forehead against Delrin’s temple as he shook his head, murmuring into Delrin’s ear. Isala could hear him anyway, but she didn’t comment, smiling as she watched the both of them, their fingers flashing, forming shapes too quickly for Isala to follow. She was grateful that they had a language of their own, one they could speak privately in. It was nice to have the freedom of selecting who they gave pieces of themselves to. There were parts of her neither of them could appreciate, pieces she ached to share, but no one who could understand them. “You can talk to us,” Delrin finally sighed. “If something’s wrong, or…” 

Isala had to smile at his scowl. His frustration was endearing. His consistent need to fix things was commendable, but her homesickness wasn’t something he could will away. He could offer her advice and support, but the decisions she made were her own, and what their effects said about her, to her clan, couldn’t be changed by his best intentions. She wasn’t sure how to explain it to him - to either of them. When she felt overwhelmed, she needed to get away from them. Dancing like this made her feel like the woman she had been before the Conclave. She could invite them to join her and try and teach them how to move the right way, but she was still on her own, modifying her steps to accommodate them. 

“I appreciate it,” Isala murmured, picking her steps as she closed the distance between them. She brushed her knuckles against Delrin’s chest before pressing her lips against his frown. Sadness was natural, something everyone experienced, something that went away with time. It could be gone by the sunrise or linger for several more days, but what Isala felt now was fleeting. She’d feel triumphant again, proud again, confident in herself again. She’d look at the two men she fell in love with and be completely satisfied with her life again. Some days she’d wish they were elves, some days she’d wish she’d never met them and she was back with her clan, none the wiser. All that mattered was that they respected her, and that she respected herself, and right now, the only way she knew to manage that was to exhaust herself of what she was feeling now. “Go back to bed.”

“Try to get some rest, all right?” Cullen kissed her cheek firmly before pressing his hand against Delrin’s back, urging him away. Isala sighed heavily as she watched them go before turning on her toes and holding herself again, dancing quietly to the tune in her head.


End file.
